


fantasias

by beneathyourbravery



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, Dom Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Edging, Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Markhyuck week 2021, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sub Mark Lee (NCT), Very Slight Degradation, day 6: time | devotion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beneathyourbravery/pseuds/beneathyourbravery
Summary: Donghyuck laughs softly, the song of a mockingbird announcing the arrival of spring, the war trumpets preceding the battle, “I’m just curious about what you’d do if I told you ‘bout the things I fantasize about doing to you."
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 12
Kudos: 284
Collections: Markhyuck Week 2021





	fantasias

**Author's Note:**

> i call this trick writing filth for the new year !!! (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)
> 
> inspired by the song i listened to the most in 2020: [fantasías (remix)](https://youtu.be/w-e5sFmbyHo) by rauw alejandro & farruko
> 
> written for markhyuck week 2021 day 6: time | devotion

The VIP balconies hovering above the edges of the high-end club’s dancefloor offer just enough privacy for secrets to be shared without the fear of being caught shutting down dauntless words.

“You know, you can tell me anything,” Mark says, just loud enough to be heard over the thrumming bass of the music flooding the club’s atmosphere without anyone but Donghyuck actually catching the sound, and his cheeks flush with a soft hue of red despite them both being the only ones sitting on the couch at the far back of the reserved space.

“I know I can,” Donghyuck laughs softly, the song of a mockingbird announcing the arrival of spring, the war trumpets preceding the battle, “I’m just curious about what you’d do if I told you ‘bout the things I fantasize about doing to you."

The calm with which Donghyuck speaks about it so casually makes the hairs on the back of Mark’s neck stand on end, full body on alert under the sight of the epiphany presented to him on a silver plate. Mark Lee might be many things—at times shy while still bold, strong and decided to fight for what he wants until his very last breath; a hard worker and a braver soul, daring to leave home in the pursuit of a dream that tastes sweet on the back of his tongue—, but when it comes to Lee Donghyuck, there’s no one weaker than him.

“So what would you like me to do?” Mark asks in lieu of an answer, the tips of his ears starting to burn with the dawning of Donghyuck’s intentions upon his always-greedy heart, “I can’t tell you if I don’t know.”

At that, Donghyuck smiles tight and lopsided, his eyes narrowing into a stare that makes Mark’s pulse skip a beat at the threat they suppose, ever knowing of his every desire, the exact truth thrumming through his veins, always silent, never told. 

Mark used to have a history of secrets kept to his own.

It started when he was too young to even understand what secrecy meant, a little late to realise the way in which leaving things untold would turn out to be the only reason why he’s still standing where he is today: stardom tasting of cherries on the back of his tongue while getting to live a little bit of his life in the background at the same time, too.

Donghyuck runs the pads of his fingers over Mark’s inner thigh, and even through the layer of his jeans, it burns against his skin like a brand. They raise goosebumps in their wake, gentle yet solid, and when Mark catches his eye, Donghyuck is smiling at him as if he knew every single thought crossing Mark’s overdriven brain.

Lee Donghyuck, Mark would never confess, is the biggest one of his secrets—the unholiest of his sins. 

It started innocent enough, back when they were still teetering over the blurry line between friendship and something more, the chemistry between them so tangible it would be useless to deny. Sharing every waking moment of your life with the same person often leads to this place, where sentiments of affection and warmth entangle themselves into a knot that ends up taking all the space in between the ribs and makes it hard to take in a breath without thinking ‘I want this to be forever’ in a way that transcends the platonic realm to mix in with affairs of the heart.

Mark had known, from the very first time he woke up after dreaming of Donghyuck’s hand grabbing ahold of his and of his lips pressing constellations of stars into the curves of his skin, that wanting Donghyuck was a mission doomed to failure. Best friends are allowed to crave each other’s company, even if there is barely a moment in life when they’re apart; allowed to dream of each other in mundane situations, laughs to be shared in the morning, inside jokes lasting forever under the disguise of knowing yourselves too well.

What best friends are not allowed, Mark once bitterly thought to himself after spending exactly thirty-seven minutes with his forehead pressed against the tiles under the hot spray of their dorm shower after a late-night practice, is to bite their lips as they watch each other dancing and whisper things no one else is allowed to hear; to leave their touches lingering for the longer fraction of a second just in case something else happens—the spark of a fire building up in between held hands, tension thick enough to cut under the pretense of playful flirting, the dawning realization that there is no rational explanation for why Mark has been aching to claim Donghyuck’s lips for himself ever since he first thought of it too many months ago except for the one fact he cannot bring himself to voice: he likes Donghyuck the way sin loves to cling to human nature—ready to give up everything for a taste of his name on the younger’s lips, always greedy for more, proud of every forbidden glance they share, lusting for the one person he once promised to always keep safe. 

And so Mark wants in silence—presses his face into his pillow hard enough for it to leave creases engraved on his skin and begs for the painful yearning to go away, for his body to stop aching for Donghyuck when he so well knows he’s a land impossible to conquer. He tries to make it a promise to himself: that he will never try anything, because what he and Donghyuck have attained together is more important than his own selfish desires, and the boy does not deserve to have Mark ruin everything just because he cannot keep his own greed inside his veins.

He almost succeeds in his task. NCT requires of them so much effort and dedication that, at the end of the day, Mark is left with almost no time to lament over all the things he wished he could say and do. He resigns to watching Donghyuck from afar even when they’re pressed together most of the day—forces himself to keep his eyes at bay and tells his brain this is for the best. Fantasies are still tales, no matter if they’re told or kept inside as a secret to nurse.

SuperM happens, then, and it suddenly changes everything.

During their first practice as a group, Mark blindly searches for Donghyuck among themselves just so he can crack a joke with him, laugh into his shoulder, share a knowing look that’s worth millions more than a thousand words. It’s a strange kind of heartbreak—finding yourself without the one person who’s always been by your side for the first time in endless years, and aching for them in so many ways that it hits him like a wave: taking everything at its wake and leaving the land dampened with its pain, with the way Mark knows this won’t be another thing on the endless list of things he shares with Donghyuck, a passion that’s tied them together since the very first time.

It shouldn’t be so bittersweet—getting to achieve his dream yet once again, fueled by his own worth and strong perseverance, but Taeyong sees the way Mark crumbles when they call it a day and, even though nobody says a thing about it, the way he misses Donghyuck goes untold but not missed.

To this day, Mark still doesn’t know if it was any of the other NCT members in SuperM that told him, or if it was Donghyuck’s sixth sense when it comes to all things Mark-related that led him to do it. The only thing he knows is that, when he opened the door to his room in their shared dorm with his heart feeling heavy as a rock inside his ribcage, Donghyuck had been sitting on his bed looking straight out of Mark’s dreams: soft light brown hair sitting messy atop his head, cheeks slightly flushed with a pink hue as he stared at Mark where he stood under the doorframe, and an open bottle of red wine resting propped up in the hollow between his criss-crossed legs.

“Finally,” Donghyuck had groaned, waving at an awestruck Mark in a silent urge of having him closer, “I’ve been waiting for you for a while, I _had_ to get started without you.”

“What,” Mark babbled, his tired brain too saturated to understand what was happening in that moment, “why are you here?”

“What do you mean why am I here?” Donghyuck scoffed, “I was waiting for you to come back from practice to drink! First day of a new era and all—it’s _tradition_ , Mark.”

It was a gesture so intimate, so domestic and yet so gentle and comforting that Mark felt tears welling up in his eyes against his will, his feet leading him to sit next to Donghyuck until their knees were touching and the bottle was being pushed into his hand.

As they got tipsy together, drinking from the same bottle without a care in the world, Mark told Donghyuck everything about practice and album plans and personal worries and missing him, and Donghyuck listened and listened and then told Mark that there would never be a day where they’d be apart, “maybe physically, but, you know,” a glint in his eye as he leaned forward until Mark could almost _feel_ his smirk against his own lips, “we’re _soulmates_ , hyung. It’s gonna be alright.”

Mark doesn’t remember who did it first, if it were his impulses that took over his common sense or if it was Donghyuck who got tired of playing pretend as well. The only thing he knows is that, when he closed his eyes, Donghyuck’s lips were soft on his own, and his tongue tasted sweet into his mouth, and the skin underneath his shirt felt warm enough for him to want to conquer and claim forever as his own.

“We’re drunk,” Mark remembers mumbling, when Donghyuck’s lips started to make their way down his neck, “this is wro—”

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck laughed, the very devil in disguise, “we can do it again tomorrow when we’re not, if you want. This won’t be the last time, right?”

It wasn’t.

The next day, after Donghyuck playfully flirts his way into being allowed to watch the SuperM practice sitting on a corner of the room, Mark presses him to the mirror wall and kisses his breath away—sweaty and red faced, his hair messed up from dancing and Donghyuck’s incessant tugs. When they finally pull away, after a good half an hour and a life-threatening knock on the door, the mirror is all fogged up, and it’s the start of something.

Of what, Mark doesn’t know. All he can think about, all he will ever be able to think about after learning Donghyuck’s taste under his tongue, is how much he wants—infinitely aching for more, to be Donghyuck’s, in all and every sense of the word.

Donghyuck has pressed himself impossibly close to Mark’s side on the booth in which they’ve been sitting all night nursing cocktails and pestering the rest of members away when they tried to force them to join them on the dancefloor. When Mark turns his head to the side to look at him, he’s stopped by Donghyuck’s warm hand gently grabbing his chin and forcing him to keep looking forward, until he can nose at the curve of his jaw and press his lips to his left ear, raising goosebumps all over his skin.

“It’s not about what I’d like you to do,” Donghyuck whispers, and it dead on hits boiling point for Mark’s blood, instantly rushing south at the action, “It’s about what you’d do _if_ I did what _I_ would like to do to you.”

“And what is that,” Mark whispers back, feeling himself short of breath, “what is it that you would like so much that you’re doing this in _public_ , Donghyuck.”

At that, Donghyuck laughs—teasing in nature, breathtaking beauty, unachievable dreams within the reach of a hand. When Mark is finally allowed to meet his gaze, he recognizes want before anything else, a flame so bright it’s almost blinding, and it burns and burns and leads him into temptation yet one more time.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Donghyuck grins, predatory and enchanting all at the same time, “you know how much I love it when you have me on all fours and give it to me just how I like it with that big cock of yours, hyung,” The honorific makes fire lick up the column of Mark’s back, taunting like a siren’s song, “but I’ve been thinking about what it’d be like to be the one ruining you for once, making you beg for me. You’re so hot it should be a crime, you know, makes me want to eat you _alive_. I can only imagine how pretty you’d look once I had my way with you.”

“So,” Mark manages to splutter, cheeks burning pink and voice coming out all choked up, “all of this just to tell me you wanna fuck me?”

“Oh no,” Donghyuck laughs, the devil in disguise personified right in front of Mark’s eyes to tell him there is no making it out of tonight alive, “I said I want to _ruin_ you, Mark. There’s a difference.”

“Is there really one?” Mark mumbles out on the last second of a breathless sigh, heart kicking hard against his ribs. He wouldn’t know how to tell—tries not to dwell too much on it, for his cock twitches against the inseam of his jeans, already hardening at the thought of Donghyuck’s hands on his skin. 

Donghyuck just keeps giggling, blond hair falling over his forehead with the grace ancient gods were touched upon, and says, “Oh Mark,” the threat of a night long enough to last forever, “you’ll only find out once you let me try, baby.”

Lee Donghyuck was once prohibited to him, his bandmate and his best friend and the one person he should never think about beyond a certain point, too pure and golden for Mark to taint. He probably still is, for danger drips out of his every pore to sing a mocking tune, _‘you cannot resist me, you have wanted me and I now I’ll forever haunt you, you do not regret me, you shall keep wanting’_ ; but Mark stopped being afraid of touching him too long ago for it to matter anymore, and the knowledge gives him so much power he feels invincible—leads him to be bold enough to chase Donghyuck’s lips on the back of this club, VIP or not, regardless of other members or the possibility of someone watching.

Thankfully, Donghyuck is quick enough to stop Mark with a firm hand on his shoulder when their lips are a mere breath away. “Needy,” he huffs, a smirk stretching over his own as he tilts his head to hide his face against the side of Mark’s neck until he can press the words into his flushed skin, “you haven’t even told me what you want yet.”

“I want you,” Mark tells him, shameless as he holds Donghyuck’s gaze, standing still under the fire stare of sin turned into the shape of his dearest boy, “I want anything you want.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say,” Donghyuck teases, pulling away from Mark but leaving his hand to rest over his thigh, home and anchor and gateway to damnation, “I want many things, hyung. You’re gonna need to be a little bit more specific.”

Electricity curses through Mark’s veins and leaves the fine hairs over his arms standing on end. His pulse beats heavy against his jugular, and between his thighs, throbbing warmth becomes almost unable to hide. Want is an open wound—one he never learnt how to stitch closed despite years of training.

“I,” Mark gasps before his breath gets caught in his throat, cheeks flushed not from alcohol but the proximity of Donghyuck’s smaller, curious hand to his aching want, the untold promise of being Donghyuck’s to have not long from the very moment in which they stand, “I want you to ruin me.”

Donghyuck’s eyes are warm when they meet Mark’s, and the curve of his smile hides the answers to every single one of his worries and silent wants. He stands up and offers a hand for Mark to take, and gripping it feels too much like jumping into the void not knowing what awaits for you below—the precipice high enough for it to be life-threatening, and still,

“Alright,” the softest hint of adoration written all over Donghyuck’s face as he tugs Mark impossibly closer as they head towards the stairs, and Mark is too dizzy with arousal to ask him where they’re going, “I’ll call us a taxi, let’s go home, Mark.”

In any other situation, Mark would scold him for not calling him _hyung_. As it is, he lets it slide and soaks up the implications—what might be awaiting for him, and he aches and aches and presses his lips to Donghyuck’s neck the second they’re in the back of the car with the partition rolled up.

* * *

Donghyuck sits on the edge of Mark’s twin sized bed like a rightful heir to its throne: his back slightly curved as he supports himself on the palms of his hands where they’re pressed to the mattress at either side of his hips; only a loose, white t-shirt draped over his body to contrast with the honey color of his skin, caramel sweet and addictive; his legs spread, supple, golden thighs parted to create enough room for Mark to kneel.

It’s not the first time they’ve done this—far from it, actually, with how hooked on Donghyuck’s touch Mark is, with how much Donghyuck loves to come undone underneath Mark’s hands and Mark’s tongue, but the atmosphere feels somehow different and it’s enough to make Mark shiver with the weight of the untold.

“You have to trust me,” Donghyuck had told him upon returning to the dorm, foregoing the stop at the fifth floor to head directly into Mark’s empty-for-the-night room, “or else this is not going to work.”

“I trust you with my life,” Mark had replied, honesty a noose around his neck, virtue and sin at the same time, “always have.”

At that, Donghyuck pressed him to the wall and kissed his breath away, his lips not leaving Mark’s until they were both gasping for air, spit running down their chins in an undeniable proof of their act—of wanting each other so much it’s impossible to stray away, unthinkable of them to crave anyone who’s not them. 

Donghyuck had undressed himself, then, directing Mark not to touch him. The wait seems to prolong itself forever, for all Mark wants is to claim Donghyuck’s skin yet one more time, leave his teeth imprinted on it for everyone to tell not to whom, but _where_ he belongs: in between Mark’s arms and Mark’s legs, underneath his lips, underneath his hands.

“Take off your clothes,” Donghyuck grinned as he sat on the edge of the bed, then, the snake pointing at the apple in Eden as he put down on a pillow on the wooden ground right in front of himself, “and get down on your knees for me.”

As Mark undresses, he feels the world as if it were turning in slow motion, the pace of his movements sluggish where he feels desperate enough to rush. Still, once there’s not a piece of clothing still hanging from his body, he walks up to where Donghyuck is sitting, and hovers over him one last time for this night. He aches to kiss him again, take him under his weight and ravish his body until they’ve both forgotten everything but each other’s names yet once again, but Donghyuck’s eyes are calm and powerful as he stares up at Mark and it tugs at some hidden corner of his chest and brings him down deliciously. 

When Mark sinks down to his knees, the ground doesn’t give beneath the weight of his sins, and although he doesn’t ask for forgiveness, it’s the closest to salvation he thinks he’ll ever get to feel.

The palm of Donghyuck’s hand is warm when he cradles Mark’s jaw with it, gentle in his motion, the pads of his fingers drawing nameless shapes on the slowly flushing skin of his face. When Mark meets his eyes, the feeling he recognises in them is not one he knows how to label, but it’s kind and it’s caring, some sort of spell casted over them and bringing them to a world in which only they exist, lost in pleasure, lost in their touch. 

“You’ll tell me if it gets too much, right?” Donghyuck says softly, gently tucking a stray tuft of Mark’s hair behind his ear, his fingers lingering on the spot for a while short enough to last for just a breath, but awakening goosebumps nevertheless. Mark nods his head once, unable to tear his eyes away from Donghyuck’s enchanting stare, and when he leans back on his elbows and looks down at him with his eyelids half closed, the blood inside Mark’s veins boils and simmers hot underneath his skin. “Good,” Donghyuck smirks, taunting in his nature, irresistible fruit and endless tease, “now, be good for me and suck me off, yeah?”

Mark’s cock hasn’t gone down from a semi since the very first second he put his lips on Donghyuck at the back of the taxi, but the words rush straight into his want and make him throb with a badly stifled groan. Donghyuck smiles, ever knowing of Mark’s every desire, and the sight he makes all golden and for Mark to have is so mind-blowing that he can do nothing but obey.

He starts by pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin of Donghyuck’s inner thighs. The supple flesh gives a little under the light force of his mouth, and before Mark can stop himself, he’s already sucking a bruise on there—his place to claim, his and his and only his to taste and touch, a secret hidden beneath layers of clothes and teasing stares. But Donghyuck doesn’t allow him to stall on there much longer, always focused on what he wants, ruthless and passionate and everything Mark never knew he needed until this very instant. 

That is why, when Donghyuck tangles his fingers through Mark’s dark hair and gives a solid tug, he can’t help but moan in absolute delight, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. “C’mon,” Donghyuck hisses, “I think I told you to suck me off.”

Mark’s cheeks flush a dark shade of pink, and he’s nodding before he can really grasp what Donghyuck is telling him. He supports himself with his hands on the boy’s strong thighs, and then leans forward and welcomes him into the warmth of his mouth—sweet homecoming, unabashed pleasure. 

The weight of Donghyuck’s cock inside his mouth feels grounding enough for Mark to want to grow roots in here—melt with the ground until he, too, can stay in this place between Donghyuck’s thighs forever, making him feel good and thinking about nothing but him, and his taste, and the feel of his skin, and the little sounds he makes as Mark hollows his cheeks and starts to properly suck his cock. 

For a short while, Donghyuck lets Mark do as he pleases—allows his hands to grip his thighs, his tongue to tease the head of his cock until he’s hissing with overwhelming pleasure, his lips to leave feather-like trails of kisses all over his swollen length. Still, Mark is aware of the atmosphere surrounding them, knows in the very back of his mind that what Donghyuck wants is to take the reins if only because he, too, wants him to do so. 

Relinquishing power and responsibility, focusing only on him—there is nothing else Mark would love more on this very instant.

As always, Donghyuck seems to read his mind, ever the protector of Mark’s every secret, connoisseur of his soul. He places a hand on the curve of Mark’s jaw until their eyes meet, pulling out of his mouth slowly until Mark’s wet, parted lips are left to rest against the reddened head. 

“Give me your hands,” Donghyuck tells him, the aura of a king glowing around the halo of his messed up hair, and obedience tastes sweet against Mark’s palate as he lets go of his grip on Donghyuck’s thighs for him to take ahold of them. Donghyuck’s grip is gentle as he leans down to press a kiss to each of Mark’s palms, and then tightens a little bit as he stares into his eyes and tells him, “now hold them behind your back and do not touch me until I tell you to, alright?”

Thunder and lightning both run through Mark’s spine at the same pace, both miraculous and defying, and his cock twitches uselessly between his naked thighs and drools a stream of precum onto the wooden ground as he nods dumbly, desire drumming through his veins. 

Donghyuck grins, visibly satisfied as Mark wraps his own fingers around his wrists, and then regains his hold on Mark’s hair and guides his cock into his mouth again with his free hand until Mark’s lips are stretched thin around his thick girth, almost all the way down. 

Mark blinks his eyes twice, enough for the wetness welling up in his eyes to cling to his lashes before it threatens to spill down his cheeks, and a soft caress of Donghyuck’s free hand on his high cheekbone is all the warning he gets before Donghyuck pushes him down a little bit further, until Mark’s nose is almost pressed to his pubic bone. The tip of his cock tickles the back of Mark’s throat and makes his chest feel tight, eyes shut closed as he wills himself to try and breathe through his nose despite the gagging noises he can hear himself making when Donghyuck pulls back and then slides back in, spit spilling down his chin as tears ricochet down his dark flushed cheeks.

“Fuck, Mark,” Donghyuck groans, his honey skin lit up by a gentle fire that melts his cheeks cherry pink, impossibly hard where he’s throbbing inside the hot cavern of Mark’s mouth, “you’re so good, so good for me, aren’t you? All for me.”

He is, Mark deliriously wants to tell him, _all yours to have, Donghyuckie, always and forever_ , but his jaw hurts from the stretch and all he knows how to do with his tongue is tease the inflamed vein on the underside of Donghyuck’s cock, and so he heaves out a ragged breath through his nose and tries to hum an affirmative noise around the thickness of Donghyuck’s want.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck moans, eyes fluttering closed for a second as he thrusts back into Mark’s mouth, pulling yet another choked out squelch from his swollen throat before quickly moving back to let him breathe heavily, sweaty forehead pressed to Donghyuck’s inner thigh as he pants, “you’re so hot, Mark, got me so fucking close.”

Through bleary eyes and red splotchy cheeks, Mark looks up at Donghyuck from where he kneels and feels the weight of the entire world slipping off his shoulders—feels himself light enough to fly, and basks in the freedom it gives him as he raises a shaky hand to wrap tight around Donghyuck’s throbbing length, his only purpose pleasing him as he moves it up and down slowly, accompanied by swipes of his thumb over his reddened head just how he knows he loves; his greatest delight watching adoration drip out of Donghyuck’s every pore as he trembles and whines with his grip on Mark’s hair tightening enough to hurt in the most delicious of ways, wrapping his other hand around Mark’s own to regain control of his movements. The contrast of Donghyuck’s smaller hand around Mark’s is arousing in itself—warm gold over steel cold, a match made in Heaven, forgiveness where Mark lays on his knees.

“I’m gonna cum,” Donghyuck announces, and when Mark meets his hooded gaze all he sees is a truth too big to be told—that there’s no place he’d rather be but underneath this boy that resembles both the Sun and the gentlest of devils so very much, that he could give everything up for him and yet he’d still crave more. 

“Please,” Mark croaks out weakly, voice raspy from disuse and the abuse his throat just took, “please, Hyuck, for me, ple—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Donghyuck grunts out his name in between a broken moan and a violent shiver running through his spine, and then he’s cumming in thick streaks of white across Mark’s cheeks and the gentle slope of Mark’s nose, some of his release landing over his red, parted lips and resting there until Mark swipes his tongue over them just to taste him.

“God, Mark,” Donghyuck pants, his skin flushed underneath the creased white shirt he still hasn’t taken off, his cheeks burning as he stares down at him with his chest heaving, “you’re so perfect, fuck. Come here, c’mon, let me—let me take care of you, c’mon.”

Mark doesn’t feel in control of his limbs as he stands up, his knees wobbly from having rested his weight on them for too long. It takes him a second to snap out of his haze, until Donghyuck reaches over to wrap his arms around Mark’s waist and pulls him closer until they, somehow, end up pressed against each other over the mattress.

“Pretty,” Donghyuck mumbles, in the way he knows makes Mark melt, always hungry for his praise, “my beautiful boy, you’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything,” Mark parrots, throbbing between the legs and honest where he stares at Donghyuck in silent devotion, “anything for you.”

Donghyuck fingers scoop up the leftover traces of his cum before he gently pushes them past Mark’s lips, pressing down on his tongue for a moment until he feels him swallow. He then kisses him, uncaring of anything but making Mark feel good as he wipes his fingers on his shirt, and only pulls back when he feels Mark rolling his hips against his thigh in a desperate quest for relief.

“Needy,” Donghyuck taunts him again, leaving a bruise on the curve of his shoulder as he runs his hands down the heated skin of Mark’s sides, “want me to make you come, angel?”

The sound he punches out of Mark’s chest almost resembles a holler—utterly desperate in nature, Donghyuck and his lips and his voice and his heavenly touch the only thoughts plaguing his arousal-ridden mind. 

“Please,” Mark begs, his fingers gripping the thin material of Donghyuck’s shirt and trying to get it out of their way, aching for the close contact of skin against skin, “for you, just wanna be good—”

“You’re so good for me, Mark,” Donghyuck tells him as he finally, _finally_ gets rid of his damned shirt, manoeuvring Mark around until he’s sitting with his back pressed to Donghyuck’s chest between his spread legs, Mark’s own also parted and pressed to the inside of Donghyuck’s thighs, “You’re not gonna cum until I tell you, right, hyung?” he teases, the word making Mark cry out loud as he nods vehemently, getting lost in the way Donghyuck’s hand is warm around his swollen cock, “Yeah, that’s right, this big, fucking pretty cock of yours is absolutely _useless_ when we’re like this, isn’t it? You’re mine to do as I please, mine to ruin, what if I decide to leave you hanging like this, hm?”

The motion of Donghyuck’s rough palm over the precum-slick warmth of Mark’s pulsing cock, quick for a second and slow in the next, makes him go absolutely _delirious_ , his thighs trembling in exertion where they’re bracketed in between Donghyuck’s own. If he were able to articulate his words, Mark would love to beg him—tell Donghyuck anything just so he would finish him off quick, stop dragging out this sweet torture that’s left his nerves frayed and every hair on his skin standing on end; but his tongue feels thick as cotton inside his mouth, and so he barely manages a broken, _“puh-please,”_ that’s more pitiful than anything as he mindlessly ruts into Donghyuck’s hand.

“Please what, beautiful?” Donghyuck coos against the shell of Mark’s ear, teasing his skin with a drag of his tongue as he purposely tightens his grip around the base of Mark’s cock, “C’mon, you can have it if you just ask me, don’t you wanna try?”

And Mark is _feverish_ , trembling as he cries out Donghyuck’s name unashamed into the open of his deserted bedroom, a plea for nothing and everything all at once, his mind floating away into a paradise of his own where nothing matters but reaching his peak and melting in Donghyuck’s arms. “Please,” he tries again, in between the ragged breaths and broken whines spilling out of his parted lips alongside with his own drool, “c-cum, I need, Donghyuck, please, make me—”

“Make you cum?” Donghyuck repeats softly, his lips pressed to the conjunction of Mark’s neck and his shoulder as sweat beads down his temple, “You really need it, hyung, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Mark all but sobs, his thighs threatening to snap closed on their own as he fights not to double over with the overwhelming pleasure building up impossibly tight between his legs, “ _please_ , pleasepleaseplease, anything, anything, I’ll—”

“You’ve been so good for me already, baby,” Donghyuck tells him, running his free hand through Mark’s hair for a second while the other pumps his cock faster, thumb digging into his slit right as he grabs ahold of Mark’s jaw, tilting his head until they’re staring at each other when he says, “cum for me, c’mon.”

Mark’s vision flashes white then, the loudest moan he could’ve ever mustered escaping from his lips as Donghyuck strokes him into completion, the movement of his hand not stopping until Mark starts hissing where he’s sagged back against his chest, hot tears running down his cheeks as he fights to regain his breath. Donghyuck’s arms are quick to wrap around Mark, holding his trembling frame close to his body and making sure to press kisses to every possible inch of Mark’s skin until he finally calms down, delight and relief washing over him in waves.

“There you go, so beautiful, so great for me, Mark,” Donghyuck keeps mumbling against Mark’s heated skin, stroking his sweaty back until the aftershocks die down and he can move again to search for Donghyuck’s gaze, still half-lost in a pleasant haze of safety and adoration, “I love you so much.”

It’s not the first time Donghyuck’s said it, for he does it all the time, half-heartedly and then not, so undeniably enamoured that it’d be foolish to try and keep it quiet and down when it’s just the two of them in the room.

But it _is_ the first time it makes a difference, because Mark’s eyes are shot wide open as he stares into Donghyuck’s, silence draping thick over them for a moment before he leans forward to finally kiss him again, hoping for it to say all the words he’s always struggled to tell him. 

“I love you too,” Mark says, once they’re both cuddled up against each other over the covers of his bed, his still-shaky hand reaching over to rest on Donghyuck’s chest, right where his heart is beating hard against layers of flesh and bone, “I really do—more than I ever will love anyone else, Donghyuck.”

And Donghyuck has always dreamed of many things, fantasized about endless scenarios he knew impossible as they were brewed in his mind—but this is real and tangible like the very touches they share, and so he lets himself drink the words and then kiss them away from Mark’s lips until they’re bursting into a fit of lovesick giggles, his own personal attempt at redemption.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! please leave kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed this story, and you can find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/hanniecuqui) and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/peekatom) <3.


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